Spoilt Brat

It's July, which signals the annual move for my son, from one flat to another, in his University hometown, Bristol. He has already been a student for 5 years, it seems like 10. Once upon a time students were despatched with a bean bag, a saucepan, and a cookery book entitled "1001 ways with Jacket Potatoes". Not my boy. Like Mother like Son. Brought up by a Mother who preferred to do her weekly shop in Selfridges Food Hall, he regularly calls me for cooking tips. " Mum", he wails, "I'm rustling up a scallop and chorizo rissotto. Which rice should I use, Arboria or Carnaroli ?"

He has had flats in some of the most beautiful buildings in Bristol, 18th buildings with character, once occupied by the rich merchants. Student life is not what it used to be. The smug little gits ;-)

So the Jag is filled with his (duck down, he insists on it) duvets, speakers, laptops, vinyl, top end saucepans and woks, and bags upon bags of fresh laundry (I dipped out here, and rather sluttishly sent it to the local service wash). I note there are no work books; odd when he has 3 modules to resit next month.

Life is always a little more dull when Fauntleroy isn't around, but I shall look forward to the regular call with his cookery FAQ, "Mother - how long in the oven for a 1kg fillet of beef" (18 minutes darling, after searing, then rest for the same, and how the *!?$ can you afford that !)

Time Flies

I have been a very naughty blogger; I let life run away with me and neglected to attend to The Secret Speakeasy. So here I am, to dust off the cobwebs and rearrange the furniture.

A lot has been happening in Nightingale World. I have decided to go back to work; John's recovery from an aquired brain injury is progressing well and I need to get back in touch with the outside world. So, in less than two weeks time I will become the new PA to the Directors of One Creative Environments, an architectural design practice. Having spent the last five years working within the design & build sector, I know this job will fit me like a glove.

I have also had my own cow named after me. Ali lives in New South Wales, Australia on the "ranch" owned by one of my BF's, Janine Snow (Princess Nini of Snowland - she rules Wales you know !)

I adore Highland Cattle, and Ali is a beauty. I only hope she doesn't end up like Colin, another of Janine's bovine entourage. He is now packaged up in her kitchen, marked as Scottish fillet and lean mince :-(

Virgin Blogger

I have now been blogging for, ooh let me see, about four hours. After years of lurking, snooping, watching and listening, throwing myself headlong into the fray of message boards, forums, MySpace and Facebook - I have finally blogged for the very first time.

Initially I decided to do this so I could improve the format for the Gluttony Group that I started a while ago on Facebook; I found the format a bit limiting and the display is useless for recipes and food tips.

I feel dirty and used but I like it. I have joined the merry throng of internet narcissists who talk about me, me, me. However, as I am not one to blow my own trumpet I will try to use this site for something a little bit more interesting than the middle aged Domestic Goddess that I am (see, the self obsession bug has bitten me already). Not much to see yet but watch this space.